


toss-up!

by weonderlust



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Crushes, Haikyuu!! AU, Light Angst, M/M, Minor Injuries, Test of Courage, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Training Camp, Volleyball, nothing too bad i promise!!!, poetic cinema!, someone gets proposed on court
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:40:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21948967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weonderlust/pseuds/weonderlust
Summary: Huang Renjun knows what to expect when he signed up to be a member for the boys’ volleyball club: a whole lot of wins, an equal amount of losses and of course, the impending graduation of the third years.What he didn’t expect was Lucas Wong.
Relationships: Huang Ren Jun/Wong Yuk Hei | Lucas, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 27
Kudos: 159
Collections: 1





	toss-up!

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. Google Docs title: haikyuu but make it luren  
> 2\. as u can probably guess, i get all my knowledge of volleyball from haikyuu so. like. go easy on me.  
> 3\. i have a crush on yuji nishida (this is literally what inspired the entirety of this fic)
> 
> ♡ a special thank u to lia who helped me realized what better way to write for christmas than to combine our fav things together: haikyuu and luren. love u bb ꒰⌗´͈ ᵕ ॣ`͈⌗꒱৩
> 
> additional notes: for the sake of the fic,  
> ‘02 — ‘00: first years  
> ‘99 — ‘97: second years  
> ‘96 — ‘94: third years

The is how the daydream starts:

It’s a memory from roughly a year ago during summer.

Renjun can still feel the heat of June inside his shirt even after he’s settled down inside the public stadium. The air inside smells a lot like a mix of Wilson volleyballs and adrenaline—this he knows. Every volleyball player knows the feeling of winning and losing, and right now, these high school students playing down there are chasing one thing: _victory_.

There’s the consistent pat-pat-patters of the ball bouncing off polished floors, echoing through the space of the gym, and the sounds blending in with the squeaking of shoes—all very familiar to Renjun.

 _Thump, thump, thump_! The ball reverberates below the stands and he leans in to see the high school team practicing close below him. He squints his eyes, reading the back of their uniforms, black and white: _SOUL_. Humming, he scans the rest of the school teams. There are three courts in every gym, and the team playing in the centre is, _well_ , the centre of everyone’s attention.

“O _ho_ ,” he hears a hoot from next to him. When he turns around, it’s Jaemin who yells out a _Yeah!_ when he hears another whistle go off, indicating a point being scored. He turns back to Renjun, “You’re here, too?”

“Hey,” Renjun greets, looking back at the court just to see DREAM score a service ace with a jump float serve. He tried it once during practice but the ball only ended up hitting the net on _his_ side. Not really a memory he’s fond of; he remembers one of his teammates shouting at him because _that was reckless, Renjun! Good try, though!_ and Donghyuck laughing a little too loud. Maybe he’ll try again. “Scouting for high schools?”

Jaemin hums, standing next to him. He has his arms crossed, just slightly brushing Renjun’s, and he has a furrow in his eyebrows as he concentrates.

Across them on the other side of the stands are other middles schoolers and they’re doing what he and Jaemin are doing: finding the best high school to go to as the next step. Find the best volleyball team to be on in high school. Genius setters, strong hitters and a sturdy defence system—that kind of search.

“Who’s playing in the centre?” Jaemin asks.

“Um,” Renjun squints and tries to read the name of the benchwarmers screaming _Don’t mind! Don’t mind! Once more!_ “VISION versus…? Ah, I can’t read that. The scores are 23 to 17.”

A whistle goes off again and the players clad in red and white rotate in clockwise.

“VISION, huh? I heard their pinch server is a first year.”

“That’s a lot of pressure.”

“Look—that one. He’s about to serve,” Jaemin points to a player, back facing them. He wears the number twenty. Renjun knows he has his eyes closed (Jaemin does it every time he’s about to serve too) and he can see the way his back muscles press against his uniform as he takes a deep breath.

 _Tweeeeeet_ —!

Renjun watches in slow motion.

Exactly three seconds after the whistle is blown, number twenty takes two steps forward, jumping on his fourth step and he jumps, hitting the ball with a satisfying _Thwack_! The ball goes airborne—zooming from one side of the court to the other, hitting the floor just barely inside the line; just barely calling it safe but _there_ nonetheless. A match point nonetheless.

Renjun finds himself screaming: “Service ace!”

Everyone in the stands are chanting the same thing, cheering and Renjun watches as number twenty’s teammates move in to ruffle his hair, congratulating him with pats on the back. He stands a little straighter and Renjun blinks—takes stock of this view right here: number twenty stands static on the court where everyone has a great view of him. He’s tall and proud as he should be and all Renjun could breathe out is, “ _Wow_.”

Jaemin agrees, nodding. “He definitely targeted near the line so the defense for the other team weren’t able to connect afterwards. That’s one _hella_ of a setter.”

Renjun tattooes the number twenty in his mind. From where he is standing, looking down as number twenty readies himself to win another point, he quietly thinks to himself—because God knows how much Jaemin will tease him for this—he thinks:

this boy is made for victory.

There’s a tugging feeling in his guts.

He wants this boy to toss to him, to put his entire trust in him as an ace. Ask him, one more time, once more: _toss to me! Let’s win together!_

Renjun falls in love—with a boy whose form is incredibly perfect, muscles pulled taut, a hunger to win. He falls in love, not with a face, but with the number twenty.

The daydream ends with Jaemin barging back into his room, a plate of sliced watermelons in his hand and a _Love, Simon_ DVD in the other.

* * *

April following the year after finds Renjun dashing through the corridors of DREAM High, eager to get to the gym and greet his upperclassmen from the boys’ volleyball club ( _first impressions are important!!_ , he messaged Jaemin the night before, to which the latter replied with a: _u acting like they john quiñones_ ).

(When Naeyon, the third year club manager, hands the first years their uniforms, Renjun beams at the number seven plastered on his and he clutches the black-and-orange shirt to his heart. He ignores Jisung’s teasing jabs and Donghyuck’s fluttering giggle. They can suck his ass. He’s got a lucky number, after all.)

* * *

Golden Week starts.

Practice is hell.

By the third day, Renjun’s knees are about to give out.

“Renjun!” Taeyong shouts, not giving him a chance to recover because he’s about to serve again. A remarkable captain, a greater setter—that’s Taeyong, and Renjun doesn’t want to disappoint his upperclassman, “You’re _redirecting_ the ball so _we_ can connect—Don’t just think _the ball won’t fall on my watch_ , you have to make sure we don’t drop it afterwards either!”

Taeyong tosses another ball to him and Renjun’s body moves before his mind catches up; he goes into a receiving stance, body trained since middle school yet it’s never enough to say he’s a good defence.

 _Pah_! The ball bounces off Renjun’s arms and _God_ , does it stings but it’s not satisfying. He needs to show that he can help Taeyong and Doyoung—the only third years left—get to the Nationals.

“ _Again_ ,” Taeyong says. Renjun’s knees ache— _come on, come on, give it to me_. The ball is up high, and when it falls almost close to the net, he knows: this is it. This is the one.

Then.

“Sorry for the intrusion!” their first year club manager—Lia—slides the gym door open, the sound clattering and Renjun’s concentration breaks. The ball bounces off his arm in a not-so-perfect-angle and it zooms towards Lia. She shrieks, “ _Eek_!”

“Shit—” Renjun’s running before he knows it, eyes fixing the ball—he can get it. _Just let me get it_!

 _Pah_! In a blink of an eye, Nayeon is in front of him, hitting the ball with her wrist so that the ball moves offward. Renjun stumbles but Jaemin is quick to pull him by the back of his shirt before he could fall at Nayeon’s feet. She looks down, lips quirking into a small smile, “ _A_ for effort.”

“Thanks,” he grumbles as he stands up straight. Jaemin pats him on the back, laughing.

“I’m sorry!” Lia yells.

Renjun shakes his head. “It’s fine—what’s up?”

Taeyong walks up next to him and the rest of the gathers around.

“VISION High is here,” Nayeon announces.

* * *

Boys clad in black shirts and red gym pants all step inside their gym, timid and careful yet puffing their chests as if to say _we’re here, show us what you got_.

They line up, paralleling to DREAM and Renjun comes face-to-face (minus the height difference—it’d be face-to-chest, if you may) with a boy owning bright eyes and a smile so cheeky. They’re all really, really, _really_ pretty: the captain, Renjun guesses, stands at the end of their line facing Taeyong—has silver hair and defined eyebrows. Next to him are boys that probably belong on the next line-up of _Asia’s Next Top Model_.

Renjun rolls his neck, smiling from ear to ear as he hears the satisfying crack (Taeyong doesn’t like it when he does that—he’d always come running up to him and saying, “Renjun-ah! You’re too young! You can’t have bones rattling like Doyoung’s.” but right now Taeyong shares a look with Vision’s captain: _you’re going down_ ).

It’s on.

* * *

The day goes (roughly) like this:

1\. They win the first match. When Renjun lands on his feet after blocking one of Vision’s members—Sicheng is his name, Renjun learns, with flowy blonde hair swept up to look like an 80s dream boat—his mouth is open, a clear indication that he’s surprised and Renjun can’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of pride. “Dude,” Sicheng says, “that was a _wicked_ jump.”

2\. Jaemin and Renjun does their freak combo a few times: When Jaemin is called up to be a pinch server, he’ll take the risk of doing the jump float serve and if (emphasized) anyone can connect it, the ball would go up short and it’ll move wobbly. Renjun jumps on zero-tempo speed when it goes above the net and _thwack_! The ball hits the court on the other side of the net. A whistle blows, a point is scored and Renjun and Jaemin does their weird hand-shake. “Damn,” is what Renjun hears from the boy with the cheeky smile. He’s _grinning_. Renjun’s face feels hot. He tells himself it’s because of the heat of the game and summer and it’s definitely _not_ because of you-know-who.

3\. It’s only when Vision gets to match point before they do in the second set with a jump float serve (Jaemin seethes) by the same grinning boy does Renjun realizes: this is _him_! This is the boy he’s witnessed just last year—the same first year that scored his first service ace as a pinch server. _Dammit_.

4\. Their biorhythm goes to shit, afterwards.

Renjun doesn’t really know how to cope with the fact that the faceless boy in his dreams is here now, in their slightly-stinky-with-teenagers-sweat gym, laughing as he’s being praised by his teammates.

Panting, he places a heart on his chest, feeling the beats of his heart drumming against his ribcage like a hummingbird’s peck. He’s been running and jumping all day but this? This is the same feeling he felt in the previous summer. It’s like _fuck!_ , you know? This is DREAM’s gym but this boy right here has the presence of a Deity and he has the ability to pull in energy that’s enough to make everyone stop and stare at him.

Renjun, mostly.

 _Hoo_ -boy.

 _Hooooooo_ -boy.

(Later, Renjun gets pulled away from his crowd and he stumbles a bit into this setter’s space. Renjun apologizes and the other shakes his head, “That’s my line. I, uh. I want to apologize for almost serving the ball to your face. I’m sorry.”

One.

Two.

Then, Renjun snorts—a loud laugh following after. “No, no—what?” he says, giggling at the way the setter is pouting. “Here I thought you were going to threaten me with a _Next time, I’ll win again_ or something. Happens a lot in anime, you know?”

The setter laughs. “…What’s your name?” he asks.

“And that’s my line!” Renjun huffed, his lips betraying him as they curl into a smile. “It’s Renjun.”

“Renjun,” he echoes and there’s a loud screeching sound in his heart. It’s the feeling of his heart stopping but it wasn’t an _Oh my gosh, I forgot to do my homework—I can’t go to the training camp!_ but more of his heart going _FUCK! Here’s a heart attack! Just kidding. Ha-ha_. “I’m Lucas.”

“Nice to meet ‘chu, Lucas,” Renjun stutters.

And this Lucas—he had the audacity to titter. There’s lilt in the sound of his breathy laughter. Cupid’s arrow pierces at Renjun’s heart. Vision’s captain, Kun (Renjun catches that information from Doyoung when he stuck out his tongue at him ever so childishly during one of the sets) call out for him.

Lucas waves. “See you later, Renjun!”

“Yeah,” Renjun bites his lips. “See you later.”)

* * *

“ _Dammit_ , idiot, wake up!”

Renjun stirs awake, blinking his eyes open as he feels the bus coming to a halt. There’s a prickling feeling in his cheeks. Donghyuck pokes at his cheeks now, instead of pinching them again. He swats the hand away.

Donghyuck huffs, “Did you stay up late again? You know you’re going to end up wearing glasses by the end of our first year if you’re going to keep watching those volley-videos.”

“It’s for _science_ ,” Renjun defends. The sky is coloured a bright blue—the shade that tells him it’s either half past noon or one in the afternoon. Either one is right. “We need _all_ the help we can get.”

Deep down in Renjun’s hardened heart (because he knows what to expect when he signed up to be a member of DREAM’s boys’ volleyball club: a whole lot of wins, an equal amount of losses and of course, the impending graduation of the third years. _So_ , he takes the liberty of toughening his heart, pushing through the pain even as a first year in high school because he. will. not. cry—especially after their lost during the semi-finals just last month), he knows that Donghyuck knows that he’s _right_.

They’ve only gained the recognition DREAM had deserved a few years ago thanks to their past upperclassmen. It’s no wonder people have great expectations on them now ( _no more aimless dreamers!_ ). Their duty, as underclassmen, is to uphold the good name of DREAM, at least.

( _And get to the Nationals_ , Renjun thinks. Hopes. Promises.)

“Watching those moves in the videos is on another plane of existence. It’s not actually ingraining it into our muscle memory,” Donghyuck says.

Renjun puts up his hand, throwing Donghyuck a peace sign and the latter snorts, looking outside the window. “Suit yourself. If you end up wearing those goggles that Rei from _Free!_ wears to every match from second year up to what—university? That’s on _you_. Look outside.”

Ignoring the underhanded compliment (Rei is cute, thank you very much), Renjun stretches his body before looking outside. The bus had stopped right in front of SOUL High—enormous and white, windows lining up in parallel horizontal lines from the top all the way to the bottom; typical, but the huge staircase that leads up to it isn’t something Renjun sees every day.

“It’s 127,” Donghyuck comments next to him; he says the nickname this way: one-two-seven. They watch as boys with indigo shirts and white gym pants gather in front of the staircase, waiting for DREAM to get off the bus and greet them. Renjun thinks back to Soul’s nickname: 127. Rumour has it that, for reasons that are beyond him, they have 127 special combo-attacks on court.

Outside the bus, a familiar-looking boy with dark hair runs up to where Renjun and Donghyuck is sitting, jumping up to tap against the window. Like some overexcited puppy, he waves his hands enthusiastically. “It’s Mark-hyung,” Renjun laughs, waving back and slapping Donghyuck on the thigh. They watch Mark go back to where his team lines up. “You know, if you guys end up dating—”

“Shh—!” Donghyuck shushes him, thrusting a finger against Renjun’s lips, “Doyoung-hyung will hear you!”

“And?” Renjun prompts, licking his finger (Donghyuck’s eyes widen, grimacing, “ _Ew_!”) before leaning back on his seat and closing his eyes. He hopes to take the quickest power nap right now because once he steps into that gym, he’s going to lay all his muscles bare and every cell in his body will feel like they’re burning before the day ends. “This isn’t Romeo and Juliet.”

“Ha-ha,” Donghyuck deadpans, and Renjun feels him move about in his seat. Donghyuck is probably looking around to see if Doyoung is listening in on their conversation. That’d be rude. “Doyoung-hyung is still going to freak out. You know how our upperclassmen feel about dating someone from a rival team.”

“Those upperclassmen _dropped_ volleyball, remember?” Renjun says, opening one eye to glare at Donghyuck. Doyoung and Taeyong are the only third years to remain after coach had talked to them when they lost their ticket to the finals last month. Renjun admires them the most. “Doyoung-hyung and Taeyong-hyung _aren’t_ like that.”

Donghyuck fiddles with his fingers.

“I’ll approve of your relationship,” Renjun says, “Or lack thereof. God knows how you’ve been pining since middle school. Too bad he didn’t end up in Dream.”

“Of course, you have to approve of it! You’re my best friend!” Donghyuck exclaims before the words process in his head, “Wait, you said ‘lack thereof’—!”

Donghyuck doesn’t get the chance to strangle him because Taeyong stands up in his seat, handing a clipboard back to Nayeon as she stands up too. “OK!” He brings his hands together to clap, “Everyone— _out_!”

* * *

“You were dreaming about him, weren’t you?” Donghyuck whispers next to him as they line up. Greetings are shared, introductions were told. Renjun notices Soul has a new face—a first year, he thinks. Then, he processes what Donghyuck had just said and bites down a squeal. He doesn’t turn his head all the way to glare at him but he _does_ glare. The Soul member probably think it was for him. Donghyuck continues, “Your number twenty.”

Renjun sputters, looking down at the ground, “We have great setters.”

Donghyuck knows what he means: _That’s in the_ past _. I have Taeyong-hyung and Jaemin. They match my pace just right. A middle school crush won’t get them to the Nationals_. Donghyuck hums, “But you still _want_ to spike Lucas’ toss, right?”

Renjun doesn’t need to answer.

* * *

“Yo, _dream_!” Mark hollers. Currently, he’s SOUL’s number eight, a second-year and a talented libero. Renjun remembers how it felt to not worry about their shit-for-a-middle-school team’s defence because Mark-hyung is always there to make sure the ball goes _up!_ “I missed you rascals.”

“Yeah,” Donghyuck smiles, ears tinting red from where Renjun is standing next to him, “we don’t miss you, though.”

“Hey—!”

“Mark, _oi_!” Someone shouts from behind Mark.

Time stops. Renjun is frozen from where he is standing. The world completely stills and everything feels like it’s been submerged underwater. In this pause, he notices three things:

  1. It’s Lucas.
  2. His hair is _blue_ now.
  3. He’s coming their way and _shit_ , he has the biggest grin on his face right now. (Renjun wonders if he wants to wipe it off by winning a match against him or by kissing him.



He shakes the last thought away.)

“Hi! I’m Lucas!” he says and Renjun feels a swarm of butterflies swirling inside his tummy, “We’ve met before during Golden Week.”

“Ah, yes,” Donghyuck says, sly, “Number twenty.” Renjun pinches him in the arm.

“Damn, you invited VISION to this training camp, too?” Jaemin whistles. “What, your coach had to beg on his knees?”

Renjun wants to say that’s an exaggeration. But then again, they know what Vision is capable of. They know how other high school teams see them: A rambunctious group of boys whose axiom is to _reach for the stars and space above them and beyond_. Renjun has seen them play. He’s seen _Lucas_ play. They’ve played against them.

Every time Renjun steals a glance at him, he remembers the first time he saw Lucas play, just last year—how he stood on court, presence commanding and form impossibly perfect, number twenty for everyone to see—and he knows everything about this boy makes him look like he belongs for the Heaven.

Maybe, their slogan is right.

“...I’m sure you remember Renjun,” Jaemin is saying and Renjun can only offer a wheezing sound when hears his name thrown into the conversation.

“I was the wing spiker!” he blurts out. The world resurfaces up the water again and his own sentence turns around in his mind, echoing over and over again. “Half of the freak-duo combo quick.”

(“Freak-duo?” Jaemin echoes.)

Before Renjun can have the chance to die in shame, Lucas smiles even wider, eyes shaped like moon crescents, “And I was the pinch server! I’m looking forward to playing with you guys this week. We don’t really get much invitations. Kun-ge says we’re ‘intimidating’ but trust me, we’re anything but cool.”

“I’ve seen you play, buddy,” Mark raises an eyebrow, finger jabbing at his biceps and Renjun kind of wants to switch places with him, “Other high schools have every right to be afraid of you.”

Donghyuck squints, “You’re just saying that to lower our guards. Then, you’ll kick all our asses! Just like Golden Week!”

“Ah, you foiled my plan—that was _definitely_ my real intention!” Lucas laughs.

(Renjun ends up with this thought: he wants to kiss him.)

* * *

The thought freaks him out.

Renjun distracts himself for the first day of training camp. He wills himself to focus on receiving the balls _(all men aren't created_ _equally_ , he bitterly thinks—Jaehyun has monster strength and he goes on to be a fuckin’ _opposite hitter_ ), avoiding blocks especially by 127’s tall middle blockers (Damn you, Johnny!) and scoring points that seem almost impossible with Vision (their libero—Ten, was it?—has the reflexes of a _cat_.)

Lia goes all _wah_ when she reviews the number of points he scores at the end of the day. “Good work, today! Renjun-ah, you were in the zone. Any reason for that?”

“No,” he answers, trying not to glance at the blue-haired setter on the other side of the gym. “Not at all.”

* * *

Six truths:

  1. Renjun is fourteen springtimes old when he sees number twenty for the first time, and sort of develops an admiration (not a crush, Jaemin!) for him.
  2. He doesn’t learn his name.
  3. He doesn’t see him again.
  4. His name is Lucas.
  5. _Now_ , when Renjun dreams of him, there is a face: bright smile, blue hair. A body like he’s been sculpted to perfection by Aphrodite herself and skills like they were personally gifted by Nike.
  6. Dammit, he really wants to kiss him.



* * *

“Talk to him, you _ass_ ,” Jaemin says. “Or I won’t toss to you.”

Renjun has been through a lot already, and it’s only 10:23 AM on the second day. His team had lost another match yet again against 127 (was it the fifth time, already? He doesn’t know. Lia looks worried) and has done the penalty— _divings_ , freakin’ diving drills—way too many times to count. What Jaemin just threatened him with is the icing on the cake.

He squats, wiping the sweat off his forehead with his arm. “What,” he pants, “are you talking about?”

“You _like_ Lucas.”

“I do not—!”

“I’m your best friend!” Jaemin throws the ball at him, hitting him on the head. “You can’t lie to me. That’s against the Law-with-a-capital-L.”

“ _Ow_ ,” he mutters, passing the ball back to him. “Well, since you’re always a step ahead of me, you must know: I’m so _fucked_.”

“You should have known that since summer of— _hm_ , I don’t know,” Jaemin feigns thinking before exclaiming, “last year!”

“Was I really that obvious?”

“Picture this: a young middle school boy watching a first year high schooler score a service ace in the Preliminaries. The crowd cheers but all this young middle school boy can focus on is the way his uniform’s a bit too tight so that when he moves to serve again, the muscles bulge out. He thinks, _oh my_. He’s found his gay awakening.”

Renjun smacks his right leg and when Jaemin lets out a _hey!_ , he smacks the left leg. “This one’s for middle school me.”

“Aw,” Jaemin coos, “Your face is all red, now.”

“If you didn’t notice,” Renjun growls, trying his best to glare at him but he knows it’s impossible to look intimidating—especially when Jaemin’s standing, and he’s the one on the floor, “It’s because we’ve been doing these dives for so long now!”

“Sure _eeee_.”

“Don’t act so blasé! You’ve been staring at 127’s first year the entire morning. What’s up with that?”

“Unlike _you_ , I’ll admit I have a crush,” Jaemin says proudly before squatting next to him. Dropping his voice to a whisper, he says, “Apparently, he was scouted by the volleyball coach for EAGLE’s volley-team.”

Renjun leans in, eyes widening, “ _Wah_ , that school has a crazy reputation for being a powerhouse. He must be another of those genius players. Maybe an ace? What’s he doing here at SOUL?”

“Oi, oi,” Doyoung smacks the top of their heads. “We’re not here to gossip like old Asian aunties. What are you two doing?”

Jaemin beats him to it. “Renjun’s middle school crush is here but he doesn’t want to even talk to him.”

“We’ve never talked! I can’t just salsa up to him and—”

“Wait, not even once, during Golden Week?”

“No—!”

“Stop,” Doyoung cuts their bickering off with a sigh, “This doesn’t seem to be a really big deal but it does look like it’s bothering your practice.”

“It’s not—! I mean, it’s not bothering my practice ethic at all. Plus, I’m not the _only_ one with a crush here—”

Jaemin lets out an _a-ha_! “So you _admit_ it’s a crush!”

Doyoung pinches the bridge of his nose, “Just go talk to them.” Renjun lets out a _huh_. When he turns to Jaemin, the latter is taken aback too. _What_? The upperclassmen are letting them date rivals? “Please,” Doyoung continues, not giving them a chance to ask a question because he’ll think it’s stupid (it’s Donghyuck’s fault for that—he asked the team once: “How many chickens would it take to be able to kill a lion?”), “I don’t want another situation of either of you being hit by a ball just because you guys were dazed and distracted.”

“ _Another_?” Renjun asks, “Are you implying that happened before?”

Doyoung points to Taeyong as the latter approaches. Taeyong raises an eyebrow in confusion and before he asks _what_ , Doyoung reveals, “In our first year, this bitch got spiked by the ball twice in the same game because he couldn’t stop looking at 127’s Jaehyun over there.”

Jaemin gasps, “You had a crush on an enemy—?!”

“ _What_ —!” Taeyong yells, arms automatically swinging at Doyoung on instinct, and the latter lowers his body with lightning speed to dodge the hits, “Why are you filling our underclassmen’s minds with lies? You trench!”

* * *

(“If you can’t spike more than five of my tosses, then you have to talk to him,” Jaemin challenges, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Okay,” Renjun answers, “but if I _do_ spike more than five, _you_ have to ask that first year to sit with us for breakfast tomorrow.”

Of course, Renjun could only spike three out of five (“Three and a half if you count me touching the ball!”) before exhaustion sets in and he makes the mistake of going into his jump a second too early.

Jaemin laughs a little too hard, “Oh _gosh_. Renjun, you absolute nerd. I have abs, now.”)

* * *

“...Vision is over there,” Donghyuck points to the boys who have matching red shirts (Yangyang waves at them) and Renjun has to lower his hand down because _that’s weird, Hyuck. You don’t just randomly point to people_. “And Lucas is there. With Mark,” he adds, pointing to the two on the opposite side. The gym door slides open and they both twist around to see Jaemin Naruto-running to where they’re standing near the stage.

Donghyuck pats Renjun on the back, “You already know Mark, so it’s not going to be too awkward. Just go up to them, say _hi_ and you know—blend into the convo! Boom-bada- _bing_! You get a date. Not with Mark, though.”

Renjun loves his best friends, he really does but as he watches them wear matching smiles, he wants to sue them (for psychological _distress_ or something Nayeon had said before). He makes a gurgling sound, “Laying the plan like that does not make it sound easy.”

“Sure it does,” Donghyuck waves his hand as if to say _Duh_. “What does a setter, a wing spiker and a middle blocker all have in common?”

“...They’re volleyball positions?”

“Exactly,” Donghyuck smiles, placing one hand on his right shoulder.

Jaemin grabs his left one and in a sage-like voice, he says, “You can do it, young one. Do it for middle school Renjun.”

They push him rather roughly.

Mark sees him first, smiling as he waved him over.

“What’s up?” Lucas asks, bouncing the ball off the court. Once. Twice.

“Err, nothing,” Renjun wills the blush that’s creeping up on the back of his neck to not show. He gnaws at his lips, trying to come up with something other than _I actually just want to talk to you because your voice is really nice_ , “Just wanted to greet you guys...? How’s practice going so far?”

“Tiring. Just look at these bruises—” then Mark stops rolling his sleeves up because he squints at someone behind Renjun, “Wait, I think Jaehyun’s calling for me—WHAT?” he yells, and Renjun blinks, “You know I can’t hear you from all the way here!” He looks back at Renjun (face blank in confusion) and Lucas (mirroring the same look), “I’ll be back—” then he yells again, moving past Renjun, “You _don’t_ want me to come back to them? WHAT? WHY? They need to be _alone_? Oh. O _hhh_. I gotchu—”

Something is telling him Jaehyun calling for Mark may or may not be part of Donghyuck’s grand scheme. He’ll think about that later. Right now—

Right now, Renjun is alone with Lucas.

Middle school Renjun would be freaking out. It’s not every day you meet your high school idol, all sweaty and skin the colour of blush-rose. If he could turn back time, he’d go back to summer and tell him: _you are going to meet number twenty and you will learn that his name is Lucas so please, do me a big favour and plan what you want to say so he doesn’t think you’re boring_ —

Technically, they’re not truly alone. The boys of Soul are dispersed everywhere, and he can sense Donghyuck and Jaemin commentating to Chenle and Jisung on his every move. Taeyong and Doyoung are squabbling by the gym closet. Sicheng is somewhere tossing to Hendery a few feet away from them while Ten laughs at Kun for accidentally hitting his chin against the floor during a diving drill, and it’s a Goddamn miracle that Renjun hasn’t been hit in the back of his head with a ball by Xiaojun’s incredible strength. (Then again, they’re Vision. They don’t make mistakes like that, right? Lucas did say they’re anything but cool. What does that mean? What’s Lucas’ definition of cool? Is Renjun Cool?)

“Do you want to practice with me?” Lucas asks, tossing the ball to him and Renjun double-reels.

“ _Haaa_?” It comes out as a wheeze as he catches the ball though unstable. “Sorry. I, uh, I didn’t— Are you asking me to hit your tosses?”

“Yeah,” Lucas smiles, “Coach says it’s good practice to toss to different spikers. Get a feel for how different each one is. I want to be able to toss to anyone. That’s what being a setter is to me. Am I being dramatic? You must think I’m dramatic.”

“No, it’s… uh, cute,” Renjun betrays himself because he lets out a nervous giggle. _Also! Please don’t stop talking because wow—I could die listening to nothing but your voice_. He blinks, realizing he had just called Lucas cute before coughing, half-grateful that he didn’t speak the rest of what he’s thinking. That would be Bad-with-a-capital-B. “Well—uh. You free, right now?”

“Yeah, man!” Lucas beams, and Renjun feels like he’s just watched a shooting star zoom across the night sky, “Come on!”

_Dear me of last year, never mind about preparing a conversation. You’re doing good_.

_P.S. Lucas has some remarkable enthusiasm, highly contagious. Good luck, Charlie!_

* * *

The way the morning sunlight seeps in through the windows and pouring into the hallways on lilac walls and laminated wooden floor is enough to tempt Renjun to go back to the classroom where Dream stays in, unroll his futon and sleep the morning away. Doyoung will probably scold him for that (plus, he needs to eat a lot today to get through practices—he needs to be at least 10% better than he was yesterday; better than he was during Preliminaries just last month).

He usually never has a late morning but last night, his mother had been insisted on texting him all night (it started like this: his mother asking if he’s eating well, and then it ended like this: Taeyong kicking him in the shins, hissing _Go to sleep_ ).

When he passes the classroom Vision temporary resides in, he hears a snore and halts in his step, blinking in confusion. He thought he was the last one to wake up. “Huh.” Taking a peek inside, he sees there is only one futon left smack-dab in the middle of the classroom. The culprit seems to be sleeping like the dead.

The blue hair peeking through the blanket leaves no room for Renjun to guess who it is.

“Lucas,” he whisper-yells, repeating it a little louder when he gets no response. Everyone’s already downstairs anyways. Sighing, Renjun proceeds to take off his slippers and trudging in. “Oi,” he says. He crouches down to the mass under the blanket, and out of habit (but also out of influence by Donghyuck), Renjun pokes at his cheek, “Wake up.”

“ _Eh_?” Lucas whines. Renjun places his face in his palms to resist screaming. How on earth can someone be this endearing? That wasn’t even a coherent word and it has Renjun thinking of waking up to him in the mornings (preferably in a suburban household with trophies on the shelves, lots of plants and more than three cats). Lucas pulls down the blanket so that his eyes would be visible, and with a hoarse voice because the universe hates Renjun (it’s proven scientifically: he’s shit at receiving _and_ his dives aren’t as good as others), he asks, “What time is it?”

Renjun takes a second to dislodge his heart from his throat. “It’s 8.”

Lucas lets out a _hnnnnnnn_ as he stretches his arms, blankets pulled down because he’s _tall_ (and dreamy and everything Renjun wants in a setter) and Renjun has to look away—the posters plastered at the back of the classroom looks very interesting. Wow, would you look at that, SOUL High is organizing a maid cafe soon. When he looks back at Lucas, the latter is scratching at his bicep. The universe sure loves fucking with him. “Do you not get cold?” Renjun asks. The subject of the topic discernible.

“I like sleeping without shirts,” Lucas says as a matter of fact.

“Who does that?” (Jaemin’s voice tuts in his mind, _Be strong!_ )

“Uh, me?” Lucas sits up right and the blanket pools at his waist. Renjun avoids eye-contact. “It’s like, some people wear socks and others don’t. Some people wear pants, others don’t. You wear a shirt that says ‘PYJAMA’, I go shirtless. It’s the natural flow of life.”

“Are you waking up or not?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he laughs and it’s not even funny but Renjun can forgive him if he gets to hear the morning-voice version of every giggle Lucas lets out. “Hey, in practice today, can I toss to you again? Kun-ge said to practice on my receives but being with you is much more fun.”

Renjun smiles and justifies the pink on his cheeks as morning blush (shut up, Donghyuck), “If you buy me milk yogurt, I’ll think about it.”

“You drive a hard bargain,” Lucas jokes. Before Renjun could comprehend what’s happening, the setter is poking at his cheek, “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

Renjun stands up. “I’ll see you in the cafeteria,” he says all in one breath before rushing out.

* * *

He tries to ignore his friends’ stares from where they are sitting at one of the cafeteria tables next to the window, wasting no time to stomp over to where Vision’s manager is manning behind the canteen. He fills his tray with a bowl of rice, cold cucumber soup and radish strip kimchi. When he finally makes his way to their table, he gets bombarded with an _oi, Renjun_ (Jaemin), _ooh, kimchi_ (Donghyuck), _Set up an alarm, next time!_ (Taeyong) and _Hi, I’m Jeno—Soul’s outside hitter, it’s nice to meet you!_ (Jeno).

Jaemin squints at Renjun from across the table before widening his eyes, “Dude, you’re blushing red—! Have you been running?”

Renjun’s eyes twitch.

“No, no,” Donghyuck says in a faux French accent and Renjun feels a headache coming, “My dear Jaemin, it’s supposed to be: Have you been running in Lucas’ mind all day?”

“ _Ah_! Of course! Silly me!” Jaemin snorts and Donghyuck clutches at his stomach, wheezing. They knock their heads together by accident, falling off the bench.

Renjun turns to Jeno, trying his best to not be associated with the two on the floor now, “ _So_ , you want to be Ace or somethin’?”

* * *

That night, it was his turn to put down the futons in the classroom (Taeyong helped too because he’s just as kind as he is an admirable captain) when Doyoung slides the door open, “Yoo- _hoo_.” Taeyong rolls his eyes, patting the futon down a little ungently than before. “Renjun-ah,” Doyoung calls out, leaning against the door, hands tucked behind his back, “do you mind going down to the convenience store and get some mosquito repellent?”

“Uh, okay,” Renjun says, walking over the futons and stepping out of the classroom only to be greeted by Donghyuck, Jaemin _and_ Jeno—all leaning against the windows like extras from the 1990 movie Cry-Baby (Jaemin had _insisted_ on watching it when they received the news they were accepted to DREAM High. Donghyuck knows the lyrics to all the songs by heart and Renjun had Johnny Depp’s “Cry-Baby” Walker as his desktop wallpaper for weeks).

“‘Sup,” Donghyuck winks.

“Shut up,” Renjun says, “Never speak again.”

“Rude!”

“Are you going out?” Jeno asks. Renjun stares at him before looking between Donghyuck and Jaemin; both of them are trying so hard to bite down their smiles. He doesn’t know whether or not to be wary.

“Yeah,” he slides the door close (Taeyong and Doyoung started play-bickering again), “Doyoung-hyung asked me to get mosquito repellent.”

“ _Really_ ,” Jaemin drawls out.

Renjun furrows his eyebrows, “Really.”

The classroom door next to him slides open.

“—Pork buns! Got it!” Lucas is shouting before he bumps into Renjun gently, the latter swaying on his feet dizzily, “Oh—! Hi! You going somewhere?”

Renjun shifts his weight from his right foot to the other. Lucas is standing a little too close and Renjun can hear Donghyuck and Jaemin _suddenly_ diving into a conversation, pretending they can’t see them (“What was that, Donghyuck? You’ve read spoilers to _My Hero Academia_ and is asking if I’ve seen them? Well, _shucks_ ,” Jaemin is saying, voice higher, to which Jeno squeaks out, “You watch MHA, too?” Jaemin looks a little in love). Renjun nods, focusing on Lucas, “Yeah.”

“That’s good! Ten-hyung asked me to get pork buns for the team as a treat for today,” Lucas fixes his bangs before muttering, “Do you... want to go together?”

“Sure,” he twiddles with the hem of his shirt. “Let’s go.” 

* * *

(“Are you sure about this?” Taeyong asks, tone watery as they watch Lucas and Renjun skip down the school’s huge staircase outside. “They can get sick!”

“Hush,” Doyoung huffs out, “Have you _seen_ the Pride and Prejudice movie? This will work. When have I ever betrayed you?”

“Well—”

“Shut up.”)

* * *

They get caught in a rain two minutes after they’ve left the store.

Really, Renjun should have known. (Not because the clouds were grey and heavy, oh no, not that. The weather in summer is unpredictable, really. Grey clouds can fill up the sky and Renjun wouldn’t worry too much about leaving his clothes to dry outside because _nah_ , those weren’t rain clouds. No—he should have _known_ because the moment he was at the counter paying for the mosquito repellent, did he realized there were no mosquitos around the area in Soul High.

And Doyoung has been talking about the rain scene in Pride and Prejudice since forever.)

“Oh, shit!” Lucas curses, stuffing the bag of pork buns in his jacket and making a grab for Renjun’s hand, dragging him as they start running in the rain.

Renjun tries not to slip and fall and die before he gets to the Nationals ( _plus_ he’s made a promise to play beach volleyball in Brazil with his teammates—“You know, like our past upperclassmen!”) but it’s kind of difficult because 1) it’s dark, the sun has set and the neighbourhood street lamps are masked with the fog of the rain, 2) he’s trying to shield himself from the hard pelts of the raindrops but he can’t really do it properly because 3) both of his hands are occupied: one holding the stupid mosquito repellent and the other being hold tightly but not unkindly by Lucas.

“Over here!” Lucas yells above the sound of the rain and Renjun can’t really see what _over here_ is until he’s tugged under a bus stop.

The sky is painted dark grey, both of them are soaked and it’s kind of somewhat close to Elizabeth Bennet confronting Mr. Darcy. When Renjun looks around, he sees the school gate is just within view but with the rain like this, it’d be too dangerous to make a run for it. It’d be a grave sin to suddenly be benched in the middle of the game because you weren’t able to give it your absolute all.

“Are you okay?” Lucas asks him, teeth chattering.

“I’m fine,” he breathes out, “We have to wait a while, I guess. Heavy downpour doesn’t last long.” He watches Lucas take out the bag of pork buns (dry and smelling good) before placing it on the bench. He ruffles his wet hair. When he lifts his head, there’s a frown on his face. Renjun doesn’t like it. “Are _you_ okay?”

“Just…” Lucas breathes out, sitting down, “Bad memories, I guess?”

Renjun nods, “Do you… want to talk about it? It’s fine if it’s too personal.”

“No, no, just—” he sighs. And sighs. And sighs again until Renjun sits down next to him. “I was a benchwarmer—I still _am_ but I get to play more now because I’m the pinch server—but it doesn’t mean I liked being a benchwarmer in my first year.”

“I get it,” Renjun says, looking up to gaze at the sky, “They’re called benchwarmers but we aren’t given a bench. Every time you see your team wins a point, you can’t help but think: I want to experience that.”

“Right! But one day after practice, just a few days before Inter-high, we got caught in the rain—all of us. During the semi-finals… I fucked up _so_ badly. I was called in as a pinch server but it didn’t—I didn’t do well. Then, one of the third years fainted and I don’t know,” Lucas takes a deep breath before exhaling, “things went to shit afterwards. Game over—you know? We lost both sets. I didn’t come to practice for half the school year.”

 _So_ that’s _why I don’t see him in matches afterwards_. Renjun continues to listen.

“If I could just—”

Renjun stops him. “No.”

“What?”

“You have no rights to shoulder the blame.”

“But it was _my_ fault.”

Red ire gurgles in Renjun’s guts, hot and tugging, and it reminds him of bad days. He counts to two before the feeling boils down to disenchantment instead. How can Lucas say that when every time Renjun looks at him, he feels like he’s watching a Demigod whose mission on earth is to _win_?

Then Renjun remembers: Lucas is just as human as he is. He’s just a boy with dreams too big.

“It wasn’t. You think that third year doesn’t feel the same?” Renjun asks, staring at him until Lucas looks down at the ground. “That’s the thing about sports: you don’t carry the burden by yourself. Your wins and losses all belong to the team. You don’t win alone, that’s just how it is.”

“I… don’t want to sit on the bench forever.”

Renjun pinches his cheeks. “I wished you saw how I see you.”

“How do I look like?”

He thinks back to a year ago. Looking at the Lucas of now, wet and cold from the rain, there can only be one answer to that. “A winner.”

Lucas smiles before taking out a pork bun. “Want one?”

“That’s your team’s—!”

* * *

“So _ooo_ , how was the date?” Doyoung jests from where he’s snuggled up in his futon.

Renjun, now sitting on his own futon—a little dried up and wearing Donghyuck’s warm pyjamas, sputters, “You guys planned this!”

“I told him it was a bad idea,” Taeyong yaps from behind him as he ruffles Renjun’s wet hair with a towel.

“They _bonded_ ,” Doyoung sighed dreamily. He blows a kiss to the sky, “For Jane Austen.”

* * *

Lucas’ eyes shift to the net, just a quick movement of the eye but Renjun sees an opening. He hits the ball up with his wrist (Thanks, Nayeon-noona!) when it goes over to their side, fruitfully saving them a point from Lucas’ (failed) setter dump.

When he looks at Lucas, he’s saying, _Don’t treat yourself like a loser_.

Lucas chuckles, _I won’t_.

* * *

On Thursday, Renjun can’t help but notice that some of the upperclassmen all look very… suspicious, not the _I-know-what-you-did-last-summer_ look but the _watch-your-backs-because-I’m-scheming_ look.

He relays this information to his makeshift group of friends (he dragged both Lucas and Yangyang in the circle when they were passing by, while Mark and Jeno were already close by. He didn’t invite the rest of Vision or Soul because they either looked like they were up to something or just didn’t care).

Yangyang had nodded a little too fast, eyes wide—like he can’t believe there were other people who saw the permanent grin on Ten’s face—and whispered, “Kun-ge is putting up with our s-h-i-t today. That’s like, a Big Deal with a tee-em mark, because he has Ten-ge _and_ me on his team.”

Jeno looked around before leaning in to say, “Jungwoo-hyung _tossed_ to me, more than twice today.” (Jaemin had gasped at that, congratulating him like he’s Jeno’s trophy husband while the latter looked like he’s just won an Oscar, holding back tears. Mark had patted him on the back and in an even voice, he said, “And that’s on volleyball, bro.” Lucas looked confused.)

Renjun clicks his tongue, “Even Doyoung-hyung went through today’s punishment without a single complaint.” For every match lost today, they had to run up the steep hill next to the gym. If Doyoung, whose mission in life to get rich without moving too much, did not say a single word of unpleasantness throughout all that, then Something-with-a-capital-S is up, alright.

“This is like… the start of every zombie apocalypse movie!” Jaemin gasps before turning to Jeno, “Quick! You must kiss me before one of us gets infected and we _die_ without telling our true feelings to each other.”

“How does this look like a dystopian movie?”

From across the gym, Johnny yells at them to stop playing around. The circle breaks.

(Before they part ways (Renjun to Jaehyun to ask for advice—future ace to future ace, you know?—and Lucas to Jungwoo to practice receives), Lucas grips his wrist not unkindly. “Here,” he says as he thrusts a bottle of milk yogurt in Renjun’s hand. “For you.”

“Huh?”

“Take it as a thank you,” Lucas turns pink, “for waking me up—Kun-ge would have yelled at me if I was another five minutes late. And, um, for last night.”

Renjun is as red as he feels. Crushes are so dumb. He doesn’t know what to say.

“I’ll— I’ll go back to receives,” Lucas mumbles after the lack of response, rubbing the back of his neck. Renjun realizes he’s nervous. He’s a little star-struck, a little breathless and Renjun’s a little in love.

“Okay,” he manages to wheeze out.)

* * *

Their suspicions were later confirmed when the sun had set to sleep beyond the horizon and Taeyong and Doyoung had dragged Renjun outside to the courtyard after dinner. Everyone else had gathered by one of the benches positioned smack dab in the middle of the grass.

Renjun thinks they’ve got every right to think something was not right because under the moonshine, Jungwoo had put on the most sinister smile he has ever seen on a person, on such an angelic face, and announced, “We’re going to do a Test of Courage.”

Chenle had dropped his mouth open, arms dramatically flailing, “ _What_!”

“What!” Jisung echoes before twisting around to face Taeil, “What’s a Test of Courage?” to which the setter could only shrug in response.

“Not this shit, again!” Mark shouted from behind.

“So _this_ is why everyone had acted so weirdly today,” Jaemin says, placing his chin in between his fingers, nodding with his eyes closed like he’s in deep thought. His eyes snap open as he raises his hand, “Who was not part of this?”

Doyoung puts his hand down, moving past him to get to the front. “Let us enlighten you,” he starts before glaring at Donghyuck who made a joke Renjun can’t properly hear to Jeno. “Every year for summer training camp, we do this Test of Courage to promote good sportsmanship, strong friendship and healthy rivalship.”

“You just want to scare the living shit out of us,” Jaemin said and Renjun puffed out his cheeks, pointing at his upperclassman accusingly.

“Also correct!” Doyoung agrees, devil-grinning when Donghyuck lets out a whining _Bro_ , “We also have Vision with us this year and they’ve never tried this out before. We thought, why not, you know? It’s the last time for us third years—”

In lightning speed, Renjun and Donghyuck had covered their ears (respectively), Chenle and Jisung repeating ten too many horrible renditions of _Lalalala, we can’t hear you!_ while Jaemin had simply yelled, “That topic belongs in the Bad Place!”

“ANYWAYS,” Jungwoo cuts in before anyone else (Sicheng and Yuta) starts booing, “Our school is one of the top most haunted places,” he explains (“He’s lying,” Mark whispers to them). “This year’s challenge is to roam Building E and find envelopes that consists of coupons. We go in pairs, two people from different schools. Remember: there are only three envelopes so if you’re lucky, you’re lucky! If you’re not, I’m not sorry! If you get possessed, that’s your fault. Okay? Let the horror show begin.”

* * *

Renjun is a first year, you can’t blame him for being a tad bit excited over this little quest. Especially after all that running up and down the hill he did today? He deserves fun, and he tells his friends just that.

“Renjun, _dear_ ,” Jaemin says, sounding like he’s talking to his child, “ _We’re_ first years, too. _We_ ran up the same Goddamn hill, too.” As he explains, Chenle and Jisung are nodding at the end of his sentences before paling at the curse word (“Ooh, I’m telling Doyoung-hyung!” Jisung had said, wiggling one finger). “You’re paired up with your future husband. Donghyuck is stuck with mine,” and with a resigned sigh, he continues, “We are not the same.”

“You got Mark—?” Donghyuck overhears before leaning in, “Hey, what if we switched—?”

“No switching!” Jungwoo barks from behind them.

Donghyuck lets out a _Hmph_!

Suddenly, two rough-skinned hands block Renjun’s view. Someone sing-songs in a very familiar voice, “Guess who?” (Renjun hears Jisung haughtily scoffs, “What is this? PDA in _my_ household? Get me out of here. Chenle, who are you paired up with?” and then the sound of footsteps, indicating everyone leaving).

“I wonder who indeed…” Renjun sing-songs back, a smile tugging at his lips.

“Oh, come on. Here’s a hint: he’s very handsome.”

“My gosh,” Renjun gasps exaggeratingly, lips quivering in an attempt not to laugh, “I knew this day would come! Oikawa Tooru, is that you?”

Lucas puts down his hands, smiling as he faces him. “I apologize for not being the 2D character you like so much.”

“That’s fine,” Renjun says, nose crinkling. The _I like you better, I think_ lingers on his lips. He holds out his fist, “You ready to get those coupons?”

“Hell yeah,” Lucas returns the fist bump and Renjun thinks it’s somewhat the most romantic thing ever.

* * *

They get to the third floor where the computer labs are after a series of events:

1\. Renjun had jumped up _at least_ thirty inches high off the ground, bumping into Lucas ever so gracefully as the latter lets out a _Whoa!_ when he heard something knock against the window from the outside as they were walking through the dimly lit hallway—saved for the creepy orange lights Renjun _knows_ Yuta had put up for special effects. (Lucas had insisted it was only a moth— _you know, just a really huge one_ —to which Renjun pointed out, “This isn’t Australia, you fool!”)

2\. They make a pact not to talk about the way the lights in the boys’ bathroom on the second floor had flickered in unnatural flashes, or the weird shadowy figure that had passed by in the hallway as they looked through one of the classrooms, or the fact that the water bottle on top of a cupboard had just fallen off without any wind _because gravity—yeah?_

3\. Lucas had almost fallen off the stairs when his foot had missed a step. (“Stupid darkness!” he whined, and Renjun had to suppress a laugh. He still called him a big baby, though.)

“Ooh, look,” Lucas points to a photo while they were looking for any envelopes pinned to a notice board (because he had said, “Just in case the third years are craftier than they seem.” Renjun agreed). The boys in the washed-out photo, cut out from a newspaper article and had rusted with time, are clad in their official match uniforms, holding up bizarre poses. A massive trophy is placed right in the centre. “ _SOUL High Boys Volleyball Team. Year 1987._ It's nice how they still place the article here even if it’s old and tattered now.”

Renjun snorts, eyeing the trophy, “What if—tomorrow—we find out this photo had never existed?”

“ _Stop_ ,” Lucas fussed. Renjun lets out a laugh, cutting himself just as quick when his eyes land on a different article. Lucas follows his train of vision and before he could do so, Renjun reads out the title out loud himself, “First Years Training Camp.”

“You want to go?” Lucas asks, eyes meeting Renjun’s.

“I’d need an invite.”

“But do you _want_ to go?”

Renjun nods slowly, whispering an _I do_ , before twisting his body to lean against the notice board. It’s uncomfortable. The feeling in his chest is prickly. He lets out a deep breath as he takes a seat on the floor, head bumping against the ridge of the notice board. Lucas follows suit. There’s a beat of silence until Renjun clenches his fist and blurts out, “Is it bad that I’m selfish?”

Lucas blinks, “About?”

“They rarely take more than one first year,” Renjun begins, lungs heavy and chest tight—he realizes he’s never really talked about _this_ , even to his closest friends or Doyoung or Taeyong, “but there’s like… five of us first years in Dream. If this training camp had to invite one, I… I want it to be me,” he shakes his head, continuing quickly, “but that’s _horrible_ for me to say, right? They’re my best friends. Donghyuck, Jaemin and I have been together since middle school. Every time I think about it, my guts churn.”

A second passes then Lucas hums, “If… let’s say, Donghyuck got the invite instead of you, how would you feel?”

“Proud!” Renjun says, arms flailing around to prove a point, “He’s an amazing player! Have you _seen_ the guy? He deserves all the good in the world.” A pause. “Don’t tell him that. His nose is already as high as Mount Everest.”

They laugh. Lucas looks away, patting him on the thigh, “You’re not a bad person.” He stares at the way the leaves of the tree outside shakes in the summer wind. “Only six can stand on the court, the stronger six. You wanting to go to the training camp only means you want to be part of that stronger six. It’s not selfish. You want to go to the Nationals.”

“And higher,” Renjun adds ambitiously, and it feels like he’s Atlas and Lucas had just lifted the weight of the sky from his shoulders.

Lucas nudges him in the arm with his, “Don’t make a loser out of yourself.”

Renjun lets out an _oi_. “That’s _my_ line.”

“You’re going to be a great Ace one day,” Lucas says rather sleepily but the impact it has on Renjun is enough to make every cell in his body stop functioning. “You’ll be the star of the court. _Centre_ court.”

“Uh-uh! You have to compliment yourself, too.”

“I’m… tall? That’s my only advantage.”

Renjun moves to slap both of his hands on Lucas’ cheeks. Ignoring Lucas’ yelp, he leans in close, “You’re an _amazing_ player. You’re always giving your all and making sure you’re the best version of yourself. You should be proud. Don’t sell yourself short and… I don’t know— _reduce_ yourself to just your looks because the way I see you… I see—” _a boy who has a place amongst the solar system and beyond_ , “…I see an incredible person.”

Lucas’ lips quiver. “You always know what to say.”

“Not really. I’m actually very terrible with words. Or saying them. One time I said _Boku No Pico_ instead of _Boku No Hero Academia_. Out loud. Think about that,” he lets go of Lucas’ face and goes back to leaning against the wall. Lucas’ head drops on his shoulder. Renjun’s hands itch to hold his. Instead he says, “You have to promise me two things.”

Lucas lets out a soft _Okay_.

“One: if you have any concerns, talk them out with your teammates. These are the people that’ll be standing with you—when you win _and_ when you lose. You felt like it was your fault that they didn’t advance to the Nationals, right? That’s a valid feeling. But you can’t stop to feel bad for yourself. Instead, prove to everyone that you can help Kun and Ten get to the Nationals.”

“…Are you really the same person who mixed up _Boku No Pico_ and _Boku No Hero_?”

Renjun ignores that, feeling flushed, “And _two_ : You have to promise me you’re going to reach for the top and won’t ever, _ever_ stop.”

A second passes.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Thinking that he’s made a mistake, Renjun opens his mouth to say something else when Lucas lifts his head, turning to look at him (“I _swear_ there were stars in his eyes, guys,” he later recalled the memory to his friends), “I promise.”

“To both?”

They don’t move away from each other.

“Both.”

“Good,” Renjun says, nodding. He stands up to wipe the dust off his pants. “Now, let’s go find those darn coupons.”

(Renjun leads Lucas by the hand, calloused skin and all, and if he hears the latter sniffling from behind, doesn’t say anything.)

((They don’t end up finding a coupon but later that night, before he steps into the classroom to sleep, Lucas had pulled him into the hallway to hug him. Lucas tells him that if Vision advances to the Nationals, he’ll buy Renjun all the milk yogurt in the world, and that’s _way_ better than any ramen coupons.))

* * *

“— _Then_ I said,” Jaemin babbles as Lia passes them both a Gatorade drink each, “if Shinsou ended up in Class 1A then he’d be in Deku’s friendship circle but Jeno goes all like, _Noooo, he’d be in Bakugo’s because Kaminari_ —”

“Dude, he’s a ShinKami shipper, I think,” Lia interjects and Jaemin twists his bottle cap open with a satisfying _crack_ before pointing a finger at her as if to say _Right!_ Renjun is only half-listening to their conversation because he’s still stuck on season two when Lia stops talking, putting a hand over her eyes as she tries to figure out who’s calling out to them from the gym door. “I think Doyoung-oppa is calling for you.”

“Huh?” Renjun says, turning around. Doyoung waves them over. They thank Lia for the drinks before jogging up to him. What Renjun didn’t expect next is for him to thrust a paper in his hand. Jaemin looks over his shoulder to read. Raising an eyebrow as he goes, Renjun orates out loud, “Get Jaehyun and Taeyong Together: A Series of Brilliant Steps by The One and Only Dongyoung Kim.”

Simply put, the plan was to:

“—Lock them in a closet,” Donghyuck rasps, reading off the paper before passing it around. Renjun has to admit Doyoung is an incredible upperclassman because he’s got almost everyone except Jaehyun ( _duh_ ), Taeyong (obviously), Johnny (who’s distracting Jaehyun), Ten (who’s distracting Taeyong) and Jaemin (who’s resting in the infirmary after being hit on the side of his face by an incoming ball) to gather in a circle in the middle of the gym right after practice that day.

Then the paper reaches him and he blinks at the ridiculousness of the thought. He shakes his head. “A hundred classrooms here and you chose a _closet_?” Renjun asks, giving the now-crumbled paper back to him.

“Listen bud,” Doyoung points at him, folding the paper and shoving it into the pocket of his gym pants, “I wrote this on the way here on the first day, okay? Taeyong kept turning around to ask me _whatcha doooooin’_. Plus, it’s still a draft. Sheesh.”

Yuta tilts his head, “Wouldn’t it have been easier if you just use the Notes app on your phone?”

“Give me a break!”

Turns out, they didn’t really have to proceed with Doyoung’s shenanigans (thank God).

Renjun’s splashing water on his face to freshen up when Lucas appeared—panting like he’s just run a mile—to drag him away from the taps, “Come to Gym Three, _quick._ ” Renjun’s a little confused but Lucas is bouncing on his feet, looking excited, so he hastily turns off the tap and they dash down the pathway that leads them up to the gym.

“What’s going on?” Renjun asks, before sliding the door wide open. Everyone has already gathered in a circle.

“Jaehyun’s _proposing_ to Taeyong,” Lucas beams, gesturing to the both of them standing in the middle of the court. Nayeon is taking pictures with her phone somewhere next to Vision (who mostly looks confused but is happy nonetheless) and Lia is dabbing tears away, a ball in her hand like she’s just stopped mid-tossing to Donghyuck. Jungwoo looks a little starry-eyed.

“What the fuck?” Renjun breathes.

“ _Shh_!” Lucas hisses the same time Yuta had hollered out, “Everyone, my bro has something to say!”

The crowd proceeds to let out a collective gasp as they watch Jaehyun get down on one knee. Taeyong’s eyes widen, hands coming up to cover his now-open mouth. Jaehyun clears his throat as he lifts up a bottle of fruit punch-flavoured Gatorade (later when Renjun asks why that specific flavour, Jaehyun had answered with a dopey lovesick smile on his face, “It’s the colour of love!”), “Will you, Lee Taeyong, advance to the Nationals with me?”

Renjun finds himself holding his breath with everyone else. Taeyong’s eyes disappear into moon crescents as he lets out a laugh, “Yes!” They kiss to the sound of volleyballs being spiked onto the polished gym floor and Hendery’s own rendition of _The Little Mermaid_ ’s Kiss the Boy.

(“That could be us,” Lucas later says, as everyone cleans up for the day.

Renjun wants to hold his hand. “Really?”

Lucas hums, “And then we’ll hold the ceremony on centre court. Maybe.”

“Maybe,” Renjun smiles. “I’m doing the proposing, though.”)

* * *

Renjun’s not-being-hit-by-a-volleyball streak comes to an end on a Saturday—that is if you leave out the times Taeyong and Jaemin had hit him on the head by accident (usually Taeyong) or on purpose (always Jaemin).

Summarized, it goes like this: he jumps into his block a little too early because he’s always been a little too overzealous but his timing is complete and utter _shit_. The pros: he had successfully saved his team from having a point be taken by Soul. The cons: he gets a nosebleed in the process and an _ugly_ feeling in his head.

(“Renjun!” Jaemin gasps.

Doyoung yells out, “Not this again!”

“ _Again_?” Yangyang squeaks.)

He lands on his ass, head throbbing and he can finally feel his muscles aching in full-blown. The gym is spinning in circles and his ears are ringing, just a bit. Someone is asking if he’s alright (Kun) and in the next second, his teammates gathers around him. A person yells, “He’s got a nosebleed!” (Jisung) and another shrieks, “Give him space!” (Chenle). Donghyuck crouches next to him and that’s enough for him to realize he’s on the ground.

A blurry Nayeon pushes through the crowd, “I’ll take him to the infirmary.”

“I’ll carry him,” someone says and Renjun blinks, the lights above him are flickering in and out of his vision in irregular flashes. He wonders if he was hit _that_ much. Said person lowers his body, back facing him. It takes a second for Renjun to realize what he’s saying, “Get on my back.”

“What—? No _ooo_ ,” his words are slurred, “I’m gon’ get blood on your shirt.”

“It’s okay.”

“What about your game…”

“I’m having a break.”

Renjun doesn’t say no. Lucas isn’t asking for one.

(When he finally wakes up, he’s lying on the only bed in the infirmary. He hears Lia munching on an apple in the chair next to him before smiling when she sees him moving to sit up. “You’re awake! Taeyong-oppa said to eat these,” she places down the plate of assorted pieces of fruits on the bedside table. “Uh, sorry. I ate all the apples. You can have the grapes.”

“‘S fine.”

“How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay,” he answers, picking up an orange slice before nibbling on it.

“That’s good,” she says, grabbing a slice of melon. “You had us all worried there. Especially, that Vision dude—Lucas-oppa, right? Say, are you two dating?”

He spits out the orange.)

* * *

Sunday is a blur.

They go through practice, playing different matches and punishments (more diving drills, sadly) like every other day before but this time, there’s a blanket of glumness clouding above them. It’s not all the time they get to train with other schools, learning other techniques and ingraining them into their playstyle. Renjun knows the sentiment is worse as a third year but he doesn’t bring it up—the upperclassmen is most likely agonizing on the thought, anyways.

In the last hour of the day, Jaemin had decided to play a game of three against three (Renjun, Jeno and Jaemin on one team versus Lucas, Hendery and Yangyang—they won by 2:1. Renjun refuses to bring up the fact that they’ve nearly lost in the last set because Lucas hand _winked_ at him. That should be a foul, by the way. It’s not Renjun’s fault he’s gay and harbours _feelings_. He tells that to Jaemin who insists on bringing it up).

The week—by extension, the training camp—ends with their respective coaches and managers surprising them with a barbeque party (Renjun had joined Donghyuck, Jaemin, Chenle, Hendery and Taeil as they start dancing and praising _yakiniku!_ when Lia had spoiled the whole thing by accidentally slipping into a conversation that same morning). Practice is over at three and they start to prepare for the barbeque party, gathering materials and setting up the grills by the side of the gym.

“Everyone!” Nayeon calls out, clapping her hands together after handing Renjun a plate of bite-size meat. “I just want to let everyone know there’s a fireworks show display for a summer event in town but we can see it perfectly here!” Everyone had cheer to that, before placing the pieces of meat down on gridirons over burning charcoal.

By sundown, everyone is full: tummies filled with meat, _kimchi_ s and _bibimbap_ s (Renjun can still the taste of _tare_ on his lips and _no_ , he will not talk about how Lucas had casually swipe the sauce off his lips to lick it before nonchalantly asking if he wanted more meat—absolutely not!). The grills had been set aside and trash bags were discarded. They’ve taken the liberty to sit on the hill, drinks (Sprite or Pepsi or green tea) in their hands as they wait for the fireworks show to start, the smell of soy sauce on burning meat lingering around.

Renjun finds Lucas and nudges at his leg, telling him to scoot over. “Thanks, by the way,” he starts as he settles down. When Lucas looks at him, rosy skin illuminating under the shine of the moon, he thinks he doesn’t mind having his mission in life is to wax poetic for Lucas, “you know, for carrying me to the infirmary.”

“It’s no problem,” Lucas stretches his leg and leans back a little, eyes darting to where some of the Vision members are sitting a few feet in front of them. He looks back at Renjun, “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

And with every ounce of bravery left in his body (in addition to the inspiration brought by Jaehyun and Taeyong, and Lia’s words of encouragement), Renjun pulls out his phone from his pocket of his gym shorts, and chucking it at Lucas’ lap. “Here,” he says before reeling back, wincing at the way he sounded like he’s let out a _honk_ , “give me your phone number.” (“Really?” Lia had laughed when he laid out his not-fully-a-plan plan to her, “You’re going to say that? That’s not smooth at all.” Renjun wills the memory away—she can’t make fun of him now. She has no power.)

Lucas blinks, once, twice—at this point, the mini-Renjuns dwelling in his brain are slamming every _ERROR_ button left and right—before taking out his own phone and handing it to him. “Only if you give me yours.” (Renjun resists clicking his tongue. So _that’s_ what Lia meant by smooth.) He feigns whining, “Ah, my classmates are all going to be up in my space, and asking things like: _Ooh, who you textin’ with a smile, hm? Is it your boyfrieeeeeend?_ ”

Renjun snorts, “I’ll say you’re mine if you say I’m yours.” He can see middle-school Renjun giving him two thumbs up. The sentence echoes in his mind and he thinks _Ha! I can be smooth, too. Take that, Lia_. “It’s all or nothing.”

“Deal,” Lucas nods. Renjun can see him type in _greatest ace_ for his contact name. “All or nothing.”

(“That’s too long for a contact name,” Renjun whines. “And embarrassing. Change it.”

“Why? It’s true,” Lucas shoves his phone back into his pocket. “You have mine as _star of the court_. It’s a toss-up.”)

The fireworks show began around seven. Everyone had turned their heads to gaze up at the sky when they hear the all-too-familiar _peeeeew_ before witnessing the first image imploding: a flower, in orange, and it had looked stunning as it painted the night sky. A loud _boom_ following its death resonates through the summer ambience. Renjun hears Lucas breathlessly whisper, “ _Damn_.”

In that moment, Renjun knows what everyone is thinking: _We’re going to make it_ because he believes it. The fireworks are the closest thing they’ll ever get to seeing a shooting star. An inkling of hope—he’ll take a part. Everyone does the same.

Renjun glances at Taeyong who’s sitting close to Jaehyun like they can’t be separated or else Aphrodite herself will cry (and really, he can’t blame them—Taeyong has been waiting for three years. Afterwards, Jaehyun’ll move up to become a third year and Taeyong will go off to a university somewhere far away and Jaemin will have to take over the position of Dream’s official setter and there won’t be any more bickering third years—)

“I can hear you thinking a little too hard, you know,” Lucas says, voice loud enough to mask the sizzles of the fireworks above them but low enough to be a whisper. He steals a glimpse at Renjun’s lips. “I really want to kiss you. And maybe tell you those three words.”

“Being romantic now, aren’t we?” Renjun laughs, leaning in closer. He thinks about what Lucas had just said for a short moment before smirking, “I’ll be going to the Nationals.”

( _Only then you can tell me_.)

Lucas returns the grin, and something about it tells Renjun he’s up for the challenge. “You’re on.”

( _I’ll see you there_.)

As he presses his lips against Renjun’s, another firework is lit up, and their hands find each other’s.

* * *

Three more truths:

  1. Lucas is fifteen springtimes old when he scores his first service ace.
  2. After the Preliminaries game, he sees a boy who looks like summer in front of the scoreboard plastered on the wall of the corridor. He doesn’t stop thinking about him (or the way he tiptoes to see the names of high schools that would be advancing to the next round or the way he has his lips jutted out in a pout or— _hmph_ ).
  3. When he sees the same boy in DREAM High’s gym, the word _Ace_ written in the stars, he decides: he needed—he just _had_ to know what his name is.



**Author's Note:**

> lucas’ number is 20 bc of [this](https://twitter.com/lucashaeyadwae/status/1209493871316488192?s=21). 
> 
> i had fun writing this so i hope it wasnt too bad U___U i didnt think it would surpass 10k but then again its always gna be all or nothing with me
> 
> merry christmas to anyone celebrating it! stay safe this holidays my friends! (⋈◍＞◡＜◍)。✧
> 
> [twt](https://twitter.com/yangiebff) | [tumblr](https://weonderful.tumblr.com/) | [cc](https://curiouscat.me/weonderlust)


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